


Gap Year on the Circuit

by emessence



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29947170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emessence/pseuds/emessence
Relationships: Carlos Sainz Jr/Original Female Character(s), Lando Norris/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	1. Blinding Desert Heat

I walk onto the track, the sun beating down on my brow. I pull my Dior sunglasses down from my head to avoid squinting. Bahrain. One of my least favorite tracks. I hate the oppressive heat. It makes me yearn more than ever for the frigid quietude of Cambridge. Maybe a gap year was a mistake, I could’ve stayed, could’ve enrolled in graduate school, could’ve stayed in England with my mother. Instead, I agreed to follow my father around the world to prepare me for my inevitable path into racing. It was the family business, and my father was determined to ensure his dynasty, regardless of my own aspirations. I suppose there are worse things than a guaranteed job and free plane tickets and hotel stays.  
I approach the McLaren paddock and scan the crowd of engineers.  
“AURORA!” I turn and see my dad approach. He pulls me into a tight hug. “I didn’t think you’d make it. Your mom called and mentioned your flight had been delayed.”  
“Yeah, I managed though,” I reply with a smile. He’ll never admit it, but he’s less stressed on race day when I’m here.  
“Mr. Brown,” an engineer approaches us and starts prattling about something related to the cars. My interest wanes and my gaze falls away from the nameless man, drifting off to the stunning man slipping into his race suit. Carlos Sainz. I watch him absentmindedly as he fastens shut the padded orange suit. It’s a better color on him than the garish yellow of his former Renault team. His eyes catch mine and turn back to my father, cheeks blushing slightly. I’m by no means one of those girls who lose their minds over the cocky F1 drivers, but I’m still embarrassed being caught staring. My dad pats me on my shoulder.  
“It’s almost time, kiddo. Better grab a good seat.” He heads over to his seat in front of the monitors and puts on his headset. I wander over to the lines of chairs in front of the flatscreen and choose a seat next to Annette. I’ve always liked her; she’s one of the only female engineers on the team. I bring it up to my dad all the time, but he brushes it off and talks about a lack of women in the field. I usually mumble bullshit under my breath and move on. She smiles at me.  
“Excited, Aurora?” I nod softly and turn to the screen. I watch as the team pulls Carlos out onto the lineup. Starting P7 isn’t bad, given how poorly McLaren performed last season. They pull out the new young driver, Lando Norris, next. I’ve yet to meet him, a rookie 19-year-old fresh from F2. I missed the season opener in Australia. He’s starting P9, not far behind his veteran teammate. I can see his smiling eyes through his helmet. From what I’ve heard, he’s a pleasant and comedic character.  
The cars slowly start their warmup lap, turning sharply to check the controls. The radios seem to be working, as I see my dad mumbling into his headset. His eyes remain glued to his monitor. They line up again, ready to begin. I watch the lights go on, then suddenly off. In an instant, the cars take off with roaring sound. Carlos maneuvers brilliantly, managing to push past the shitty Haas car.  
Lando struggles, caught behind Kimi Räikkönen’s evasive blocking. I find myself muttering under my breath, words of affirmation for the young driver. It’s nothing personal to him, but my dad is always in a much better mood after a better result. He can be a grumpy son of a bitch when the cars don’t perform.  
The race continues and I find myself spacing out. I love the racing, don’t get me wrong, but for some reason Bahrain never ceases to bore the living daylights out of me. I laugh under my breath when Grosjean’s car fails him and he skids off into the gravel of lap 16. Embarrassing for Haas, better for us to get ourselves out of the midfield.  
As the laps continue, Annette grabs my hand nervously. I let her, as this result clearly matters more to her than me. Jobs are on the line if something goes wrong, though she doesn’t know the tongue lashing I’d give my dad if he ever tried to fire her. He’d never hear the end of it.  
At lap 53, Carlos battles against Daniel Ricciardo and Nico Hulkenberg for P6. Hulkenberg tries to overtake Ricciardo for the position on a turn but catches his front wing of Ricciardo’s tire. The cars collide, spinning, and take Carlos with them. He couldn’t turn to avoid it quick enough. All three cars skid off into the gravel, crashing into the tire barrier. Annette squeezes my hand, but Carlos quickly lets the team know via radio that he’s okay. He climbs out of the car before checking on Ricciardo and Hulkenberg. They hop into a car to take them back to the paddock.  
The car drops Carlos off and he pulls his helmet off as he approaches us. Everyone gives him a sympathetic glance, knowing the crash wasn’t his fault. He smiles softly, trying to mask his disappointment. He heads back to his room wordlessly. I look over and see the stress wrought on my dad’s brow, attention now solely on Lando. Lando now occupies the P6 slot, fighting off Räikkönen to hold it. He blocks every attempted overtake brilliantly. He finally crosses the line and all the engineers cheer. P6 for the rookie is certainly an accomplishment. 8 points for the Constructor’s is nothing to stick your nose up at.  
He pulls the car back into the paddock and jumps out of the cockpit, smiling and pumping his fist in the air. His smile is absolutely precious, joy illuminating every feature on his face. Carlos comes out and pulls him in for a bone-crushing hug.  
\--  
I sip the tangy wine swirling in my glass. I feel it slide down my throat and enjoy the slight buzz swimming in my veins. My father claps Lando on the shoulder as they laugh at some unheard quip. I look over at Carlos and notice his brown eyes darken slightly, unseen by anyone else at the table. He meets my gaze and dodges it, suddenly incredibly interested in the sushi roll in front of him.  
“What did you think of the race, Aurora?” asks my father.  
“I thought it was bullshit. The Renaults couldn’t get over their own disagreement, so they brought Carlos down with them. It was immature. I am glad for Lando, though. He deserved it,” I reply. Both Lando and Carlos smile at me. My cheeks color despite my attempt to maintain facial neutrality. My dad puts a hand on my shoulder and gives me a look I know well, his fingers squeezing into my tender skin.  
“Watch how you speak as someone unaffiliated with racing, dear,” he says. I force a toothless smile and nod. He returns to his mundane conversation. Moron, I think to myself. Sure, I’m unaffiliated. That doesn’t make me a fucking idiot. Carlos gives me a slightly concerned look but continues eating gently. I look out the window over the landscape of Manama and stop my teeth from connecting with my tongue. I take a large sip of my wine to soothe my nerves.  
“Excuse me,” I say, my father nodding as I walk towards the bathroom. I keep walking towards the balcony, searching through my purse for my pack I brought from the U.K. I exit into the fresh air and take a deep breath. I light an American Blue Spirit and inhale deeply. I hear the door next to me open and I turn my head sharply. Carlos stands in front of me, brows wrought with worry.  
“Hi,” I say, taking another puff. He approaches and stands close to me.  
“Hello, Aurora.”  
“I’m surprised you know my name,” I say with a bitter laugh.  
“How could I not? You come to most races. Yours isn’t a face I’d easily forget,” he says, holding his hand out. I pass him the cigarette.  
“My father would kill me if he knew I gave one of his precious drivers a hit,” I say. “He doesn’t even know I smoke.”  
“Everyone deserves a vice every once in a while,” he says, inhaling as the cigarette touches his full lips. I make a weak attempt to temper the desire in my eyes as I watch the glorious sight in front of me.  
“I suppose you’re right,” I say. He hands it back with a soft smile.  
“It wasn’t right, what he said to you,” he says.  
“What?” I ask.  
“About you watching your tongue. Your opinions seem to be correct most of the time. You don’t have to have a job in the field to know how racing works,” he says.  
“Oh. Um-thank you,” I reply.  
“You’re welcome. I just wanted to tell you that. I can leave you alone if you’d prefer,” he says, starting to turn away. I place a hand gently on his arm.  
“Could you stay? Just for a moment,” I say, overwhelmed by something I can’t articulate.  
“Yes,” he says. He stands beside me in silence while I finish my cigarette, staring over the desert landscape before us.  
“It’s beautiful, no?” he says.  
“I suppose, in its own way.”  
“I like this view,” he says, eyes flitting over to me. A flush warms its way up my neck to my cheeks.  
“I’ll see you back in there,” I say, reentering the building. I turn back and feel his gaze burn into my back.


	2. Truth or Dare?

Everyone departs the table, but my father grabs my arm before I can join them.   
“What are you doing?” he asks.  
“What?” I reply.  
“With Carlos. What are you playing at?”  
“Nothing. I went to get some air and he followed me to talk. It was nothing.”  
“Know your boundaries, Aurora. He’s my employee and my asset. Remember that,” he says, releasing my arm and walking away quickly. I follow behind him, thanking our waitress as we exit.   
\--  
I stand on the balcony of my hotel room. The cool night air dances across my skin and a small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. It’s dangerous, but I can’t scrub Carlos from my mind; the way he looked at me, the way he followed me outside to check on me, the way he listened to everything I said. He’s racing royalty, gorgeous, and undoubtedly rich, but he still treated me like I mattered to him. My thoughts stop abruptly as I hear a knocking at the door. I wrap my robe tighter around myself and look through the peephole. You’ve got to be kidding me. I open the door and Carlos smiles softly at me.   
“Hi,” I say.   
“Hi. Lando and I are having a few people over tonight, would you want to join?” he asks.   
“I’d love to. Come in,” I gesture him inside. He follows me into the bedroom of my suite.  
“Can you turn around? I need to get dressed,” I say. He immediately turns around, flushing visibly. I pull my Ted Baker tee over my head and slip into my sweats.   
“I’m dressed,” I say. Carlos looks at me and smiles.   
“Ready?” he asks. I nod and follow him out of the room.  
\--  
“ONE. TWO. THREE,” shouts Lando. I put the shot glass up to my lips and force the vodka down. It’s horrible, but I keep a straight face. I can’t make a face at Grey Goose, but vodka is always awful. I shudder softly and shake my head to dispel the burning behind my sternum. Carlos throws an arm around my shoulder and I put my hand on his forearm. Lando forces us into truth or dare.  
“Aurora, truth or dare?” Lando asks, smiling.  
“Truth,” I reply.  
“Which McLaren driver do you fancy?” he asks, a shit-eating grin on his face.  
“Excuse me?” I ask, blush rising up my face.  
“I think you heard me,” he says with a mischievous giggle.  
“Fine. Dare.”  
“Okay. Kiss either me or Carlos,” he says, with a sense of faux nonchalance. My jaw nearly falls off my face. Carlos chokes on his drink beside me.   
“And if I refuse?” I ask. Nervousness swims like molasses through my veins, my heart hammering in my chest.   
“What did we agree on for chickening out?” Lando asks, as he looks at the others seated around the room. “Oh yeah, 10 shots!” He beams at me like a kid on Christmas. I take a deep breath and weigh my options. 10 shots, on top of the alcohol already making me tipsy, would land me in the hospital. My dad would be mortified, and it’d probably make the papers, if he didn’t pay someone to make it disappear. If I kiss Carlos, I’m jumping off a cliff into a terrifying unknown. It’ll feel exhilarating on the way down, but I don’t know how hitting the inevitable bottom would feel.   
“I’ll do it,” I say. Lando smiles and gasps dramatically, watching me with anticipation. I summon all the liquid courage in my body and turn to Carlos. His gaze meets mine and a hypnotic shiver runs down my spine. I gently place my hand on his jaw and guide his face towards mine. He leans in immediately, closing the space between us, as our mouths crash together like a tidal wave hitting the sand. His hand absentmindedly finds my waist and my lips part slightly to let his tongue graze mine. His touch is mesmerizing, and I stifle a moan as he pulls my body against his. I’m practically straddling him, but I don’t care.   
Kissing Carlos is as easy as breathing. I don’t have to think, only give in to the unbridled and sinful sensations that course through my body with each beat of my heart. My hands wander over his chest before they find their home on the back of his neck, pulling him as close to me I can.   
“Jesus, mate. I said a kiss, not a snogging session,” Lando says with a drunken chuckle. I pull away slowly and open my eyes. Everyone in the room is staring at us and I can’t help but blush. I move to climb off Carlos but his arm around my waist keeps me seated in his lap. I stifle a grin and lean back against his chest.   
“Sorry to scandalize you, Lando. I had to make sure I didn’t take 10 shots,” I say, and I feel a laugh rumble through Carlos behind me.   
“Well, I’d say you’re definitely good,” Carlos says as his warm breath tickles the back of my neck. All I want is to turn and kiss him again, but I resist the temptation and watch as the inebriated truth or dare continues. Lando shotguns a beer and spills the amber liquid all over the floor, which sends him into a fit of laughter. He almost slips on the slick floor as he walks back to his seat. Carlos’ cousin, also named Carlos, reveals that the character that started his sexual awakening was Ariel from The Little Mermaid.  
“Ariel?” I ask with a smirk, sipping the vodka cranberry in my hand.   
“Come on, Aurora. That little seashell bra? That didn’t do it for you?” he replies, stumbling over his words.   
The game continues until one of the girls, I think she’s Lando’s social media manager, vomits into the tiny trash can by the television.   
“I guess that calls it,” Lando says, holding her hair back in one hand while rubbing soothing circles on her back with the other. Everyone nods and says their goodbyes, filing out into the hallway to stumble back to their bedrooms.   
“Do you need help?” Carlos asks Lando.  
“No, mate, I got it. I’ll walk her back to her room when she can stand,” he says. Carlos nods and places a gentle hand on my back. I lead us out of the room and into the hallway.  
“Do you want me to walk you to your room?” he asks.  
“Yes, please,” I say. I could easily make it on my own, I just want the extra moments with him. We approach the elevator, and he lets me press the button. I notice how close he stands to me and I relish in the energy of his body near mine.   
We enter the elevator, and the doors close swiftly behind us. He stares at me and my mouth goes dry. Jesus, he’s beautiful. He has to know it, right? I approach him, emboldened by the vodka making its home in my body. He leans in and I close the distance, pulling him against me until our mouths collide in a heated kiss.   
“Jump,” he murmurs into my mouth. I leap off the ground and he catches me beneath my thighs, holding my body against his and supporting my weight. I grind against him and I feel the fibers of his vocal chords vibrate in his kiss. He deepens our embrace, holding me as close to him as possible. I’ve never wanted anything more than him.   
The elevator dings and he sets me down gently, making sure I find my footing before reluctantly removing his hands from my body. He follows closely behind me as I lead us towards my room. I pause and take out the keycard, inserting it into the locked door. I open the door and turn to him.   
“Goodnight, Aurora. Thank you for coming tonight,” he says.  
“You can come in, if you want,” I say, chewing my lip nervously.  
“You’re drunk. I don’t want to do anything you’d regret,” he says wistfully.  
“We don’t have to do anything. We could just sleep,” I say. “I’m not ready to say goodnight to you yet.”  
“Are you sure?” he asks.  
“I’ve never been surer,” I say, extending my hand. He takes it gently and I pull him into the room. I flick the lamplights on and head into the bathroom to brush my teeth. He watches, leaning against the doorframe. The toothpaste foams in my mouth as I brush vigorously.   
“I ha- a- e-a,” I say.  
“What?” he says, stifling a laugh as some toothpaste slips down my chin. I spit and rinse my mouth.  
“I have an extra,” I say with a giggle. I pull out a toothbrush and hand it to him. He smiles and takes my place at the sink. I leave him and look at the bedroom. My heart rate increases when I notice my stuffed koala sitting next to my pillow. I hurriedly toss it into my suitcase in the closet. I always bring it with me when I travel as a good luck charm, but Carlos doesn’t need to know that. At least not yet.   
Carlos emerges from the bathroom. I sit on the bed and beckon him over. I scoot to make room for him to lie down. We face each other, our heads resting on the pillows. I softly kiss his lips and run my fingertips over the stubble of his jaw. He puts a hand on my waist to pull me closer, exploring any inch of my body he can reach.   
“It’s late, querido,” he murmurs against my mouth. I sigh and pull back. He reaches over the turns off the lamp, before lying on his back. I lay my head on his chest and he puts an arm around me, holding me against him.   
“Goodnight, Carlos,” I say.  
“Goodnight, Aurora.”


	3. Information

Chapter 3: Information  
The alarm blares and I squeeze my eyes closed, as if that will make the incessant noise stop. I feel Carlos stir beneath my cheek. He tries to sit up, but I push him down with my hand.  
“Not yet, a few more minutes,” I mutter.   
“We have to get to the airport,” he says, a hand running through my tangled curls gently.   
“I don’t want to,” I reply. He laughs beneath me.  
“Why not, amada?” he asks.  
“Because then this moment will have to end,” I say, pressing a kiss to his chest.  
“China is in two weeks. Will you be at that race?” he asks.  
“Yes. I come to most races. I’m taking a gap year since I finished university,” I say.  
“What do you want to do after?” he asks.  
“I majored in history and communications. My dad wants me to work for McLaren in the PR department, but I don’t know if that’s the path I want. I’m trying to figure it out,” I say.   
“Well, it seems like you have months to ‘figure it out,’” he says.   
“Yes. More time to come to race weekends.”  
“I’m glad for that.”   
“Me too,” I say as I gently trace my fingertips over his bare skin underneath his t-shirt.   
“We do need to get up, Aurora.”   
“I know.”  
\--  
The two weeks before China are a blur. I go home, to England, to see my mother.   
“How was it, love?” she asks, gripping her cup of tea tightly. I told her I needed to talk to her, but I didn’t elaborate.   
“I did something that’s going to upset Dad.”  
“Everything upsets your father. You’re going to have to be a touch more specific.”   
“I spent the night with one of his drivers.”  
“Aurora, did you-”  
“No, we just slept. Well, we also made out and cuddled and-”  
“Honey, please just tell me the whole story,” she says, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. I tell her all about the night, the dinner, the balcony, the party, the time spent in my room.   
“Yeah, that’s going to have your dad raging. But he doesn’t have to know,” she says.  
“What?” I ask incredulously.   
“Just don’t tell him. You and Carlos are two consenting adults. Your business is your business. He has no place telling you what to do. You’re 21 years old.”  
“But-”  
“But nothing. Just be discreet until you know that this is going to turn into a real relationship. No point in causing stress or conflict until you’re sure.”   
“You aren’t mad?”  
“Why would I be? I did far worse when I was your age,” she says with a laugh. I smile at her, finally feeling at peace. How this relaxed woman who gets up with the sunrise to do yoga ever married my father perplexes me. Maybe he was more calm then. Maybe the high stress environment of his racing life drew her in. I guess I’ll never know.   
She drops me off at Heathrow 10 days later, giving a quick kiss to my forehead.  
“Tell me how things go, baby. I’ll see you soon,” she says, her hand cupping my cheek. I nod and hold her hand on my face for a moment, before hopping out of the car and walking towards the terminal.


End file.
